


Help Himself

by smallcrochetdog



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Confrontations, Everyone Needs A Hug, Hurt No Comfort, I have several complaints for dsmp!Philza, TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Whump, Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, hella angst, sleepy bois inc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:46:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29295369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallcrochetdog/pseuds/smallcrochetdog
Summary: The grief and sadness that Tommy had harboured for so, so long warped into something ugly, a bitter feeling rising second by second. An overwhelming emotion that he recognised as anger had reared its head, and he did nothing to reign it in. The dam had broken, and he would do nothing to stop the eventual destruction it would bring.Phil isn't the best dad.
Relationships: Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 20
Kudos: 232





	1. Confrontation

Tommy watched the scene unfold before him, not being able to move a muscle. It was too much to take in; the lingering scent of gunpowder from their rocket-launcher crossbows in the air, the sight of the city that had become a warzone, the sound of Techno cussing them out.

Before long, there was nothing more to process. A loud boom rippled through the atmosphere, tossing Tommy into the air. Flames from the explosion licked at his side, and all noise that he had heard had been replaced by the high-pitched ringing in his ear. For a moment, time didn’t exist. Weightlessness took over, and the only thing he could feel was the drop of his stomach as he began to plummet towards the now blown-up ground.

What?

After hours, or maybe seconds, Tommy couldn’t tell, he finally had come back to his senses just a tiny bit. He wishes he didn’t.

Wilbur stood in a room, above all of the residents of what was now a crater. But he wasn’t alone. A very familiar- almost too familiar silhouette joined him. A man in a bucket hat with jet black wings that stretched almost all the way to the floor, wings that were used to comfort the same man who stood in front of him as of now.

A scream, a name ripped its way up Tommy’s throat, but it landed on deaf ears. He was rendered helpless where he stood, only being able to watch as his father plunged a sword through his brother’s chest.

# —

Life was like a vicious cycle, doomed to repeat itself no matter what you did, no matter what _he_ did.

It didn’t matter if he left L’Manburg. It didn’t matter if he tried to help or persuade. It didn’t matter if he cried or begged. It _didn’t matter_.

Because it was happening all over again. Deja vú is what it’s called, Tommy had heard. When it feels like you’ve seen something, felt something, that is happening for the first time. But he didn’t know if this counted, seeing as it had indeed already happened.

He stood helpless in a crater, screaming words that _didn’t matter_ at someone he considered an older brother, at someone he considered a friend. At someone who decided to blow up the only thing that had been a somewhat constant in Tommy’s shitty, insignificant little life. The man who had killed the brother who did the exact same thing before him, his father, stood solemnly behind someone Tommy wanted to forget as soon as possible.

“I’m a person, Tommy!”

  
  
A rebuttal died on his lips, being replaced by only a small sound that sounded close to a sob.

_So am I._

# —

Tommy loved Wilbur, he really did, but he didn’t know if he could dare face him. The man who he had so many good memories with, but so, so many bad ones with. He missed when they could joke around and share laughs over the most meagre things, and a part of him wanted to ignore all the pain and hurt that he had caused at the end of their relationship. But that one part of Tommy’s brain that always tugged at him told him _no, don’t do that._

Wilbur wasn’t a good person anymore. But neither was Phil or Techno. The ladder two of the three were people he thought he could trust, and did in fact trust. But they had taken that small amount of faith and crushed it like a fragile glass ornament, tossing it aside and as if they didn’t realise its importance. They had preached not repeating history, not realising how their “message” would come to affect the members of the nation they destroyed, mirroring Wilburs last actions before death.

Tommy had never felt so small. It felt like the waves of grief wouldn’t relent, they crashed into him like a raging storm and all he could do to cope was sob. The boy was reduced to nothing more than a curled-up ball. The boy. He was just a boy, and even if he’d insist on being a man, being treated like an adult was taking its toll on him.

The gaping hole that was supposed to be L’Manburg loomed under him, looking like it would swallow him whole at any moment. And it was at that moment the realisation struck Tommy.

Everyone had left him.

Wilbur had made him president of a nation he would destroy moments later, planning to leave him alone in life after that. Tubbo, who exiled him and took away the one material comfort that hadn’t already been snatched away from him, and who left him alone entirely, never once visiting him in exile. Philza, who had killed his brother and subsequently abandoned him. Techno. The person who had tried to understand, maybe even gotten close to understanding, but decided to throw it all away in favour of his own ideals. Even the entirety of L’Manburg, they were ready to leave him as soon as they had something they could use to pin the blame on him. The community house was just a great elaborate excuse to abandon him all together, to give up on him.

But life goes on.

# —

Time had rushed past Tommy, not leaving him any time to grieve his fallen country before he had to fight Dream. It was all a blur, it all moved too fast for him to properly process it, but he had finally got some time to spare.

Now, he was mostly spending time with Sam Nook and helping with building the hotel, a gesture he hoped would be appreciated by the rest of the SMP. The only fault in this plan was that Sam Nook required more materials than he thought, specifically diamonds, of which he had only half a stack. So of course he had come crawling back to the one man he didn’t want to meet.

Now he stood in the cold, holding the ratty old trench-coat that had once been Wilbur’s close to his body in hopes of keeping somewhat warm. At first, it had seemed like a good idea to ask Phil for resources; the guy was stacked. But the closer Tommy got, more and more regret festered. Phil hated him; he knew that for a fact.

He wishes he could play pretend. That maybe in a different world, this trip would be a nice one. Tommy would be invited to sit around the fire with Phil and Techno, and they would talk about things that didn’t matter, not about death, war, and destruction. But he had already been forced to give those ideas up, he was too grown to pretend. He shouldn’t be. He wishes he wasn’t.

Three figures grew visible when Tommy got close enough. One tall and bulky silhouette, another one with draping, charred wings, and the third… someone tall and lanky with a crown on their head. Tommy bit together and walked towards them briskly.

“Hey guys,” he practically shouted in his usual manor, if only a bit more nervous. It caught the attention of all three of them, and they each had varying degrees of excitement, or lack there of. Ranboo had the courtesy to at least seem a bit pleased with his company, but the older two seemed tense, and Techno had a hand on the sheath that rested on his hip. Tommy gulped.

“Hello Tommy,” Phil said with a curt nod, looking as if he was trying to keep the encounter professional. It hurt to see your dad act like you were some sort of political symbol. “What’re you doing out here?”

He shrugged and decided to walk closer, still standing a bit away from the trio. “Big man stuff.” One of his usual loud laughs escaped him, but no one seemed to find it as funny as he did. “Hi by the way, Ranboo,” he said, some of the prior energy gone from his voice. Ranboo just gave him a polite wave and a small greeting. Tommy hadn’t forgotten about how the boy had been one of the few people who actually bothered to visit him during his exile, and despite his mixed emotions, he was grateful for that.

“Listen, Tommy. It’s better if you’re not here,” Techno intervened, blunt as ever. “What do you even want, netherite? You already robbed me,” he continued, half joking in a weird manner. Tommy wanted to forget about his time with Techno after exile, it brought up too many emotions and thoughts that he wasn’t really ready to process quite yet.

“No.” He pulled the jacket closer to him, shaking slightly from the cold. “Diamonds.” Before someone else could respond, he cut himself off. “So, Ranboo, what are you doing here?”

An exasperated groan left Phil as the man pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’s living with us for the time being, Tommy. And why do you think you can just waltz on over here and get diamonds on demand?”

Phil might as well not have said the second part of the sentence; Tommy barely registered a word of it. Ranboo was living with them? The realisation was followed by a barrage of emotions, and his skin felt like pins and needles as he swallowed around the lump in his throat. How come Ranboo got to live with his father, _Tommy’s_ father, that barely wanted anything to do with him? Tommy had just been tossed aside, replaced by another kid that was better, more well behaved. If Tommy was bold enough, he’d maybe say that Phil had missed him and tried to fill the Tommy-shaped hole in his heart with something, but he knew that was a lie. Their relationship ending was a welcome change on Phil’s part, that Tommy knew. It wasn’t something that would be missed.

Tommy pulled himself out of his stupor, scrambling to come up with something to say. “…Ranboo, huh?” His voice crackled like it was played from a radio, and for a split second Tommy wondered if the words really came from his own mouth. “I thought you didn’t do sides,” he uttered with a bitter voice, question sounding more like a statement.

The look of guilt that flashed over Ranboo’s face was tangible, but before he could even say a word, Phil stepped in and talked for him. “This isn’t picking sides, this is picking persons,” he said, and Tommy scrunched his face up. That was some of the stupidest shit he’s ever heard. “Ranboo needed the help, so we’re helping him. No affiliations.”

Sorrow and grief were replaced by a bitter anger in the matter of seconds. Tommy had had enough.

“So when he’s in need, you open your home for him?” Tommy spat out, words like poison on his tongue. He was done with controlling himself, and even if he wanted no harm towards Ranboo, he was just _so_ tired. He was never one for damage control either way. “But when I was alone in a tent in the middle of fucking nowhere, I had to fend for myself?”

Phil seemed pensive, but it was clear his resolve was still there. “That’s… different. Helping you would’ve been helping L’Manburg, and-“

  
  
“I was fucking exiled! I wasn’t a part of L’Manburg, or- or some other shitty fucking nation! I was _alone_! How is that different,” Tommy yelled before he could stop himself. Suddenly, it didn’t feel as cold anymore, and he noticed he was stepping closer to the trio. Techno still had a protective hand over the netherite blade, and Tommy only scoffed. “You gonna kill me now, big T? That seems like what you should’ve done from the start, would’ve saved you a lot of fucking trouble in the long run.” The dam of emotions had finally broke, and it was a satisfaction beyond understanding.

“If we helped you, you would’ve run back to L’Manburg and help our enemy again,” Phil said calmly in contrast to Tommy’s urgent and almost hysteric tone. It seemed as if he was choosing to ignore his second argument, and Tommy didn’t know if it was because he agreed but was too afraid to say it or something else; hell if he cared.

Tommy stumbled with his words for a second. “Because L’Manburg doesn’t fucking betray me! It’s a piece of fucking land, yet it’s more comfort than you have _ever_ been this last year!” His hands were flying around wildly, gesturing as he talked. “You took away Wilbur.” The name was uttered more carefully than the rest, as if it was something precious and fragile, and Tommy's voice sounded almost broken for a second.

Phil had no answer.

“Do you know what Dream did to me in exile?” The ugly beast that Tommy had locked away for so long finally roared his head, and a sick part of him bathed in the satisfaction of making Phil and Techno realise their mistakes, making them feel guilty for what they did to him. When he got no answer, he took it as his queue to keep talking.

“No, you don’t, because you don’t fucking _care_ ,” he hissed out, and he could faintly hear Phil try to say something in rebuttal, but he didn’t give him the chance. “Ask _Dream_ instead. I hope you never get the real story, because god knows you’d rather hear about my situation from anyone but me and use that to judge me by.” Faintly, he registered how he was shaking, and when one of the hands that were wildly gesticulating went to touch his face, the fingers came back wet. The angry haze was lifting only by a little, allowing him to see the three people in front of him.

Phil looked horrified almost, and Tommy couldn’t help the sense of gratification that rose in his chest, maybe some would call it malice. And by some miracle, Techno looked upset. Someone who didn’t know him well wouldn’t notice it, but the slightly wide eyes and stiff posture gave it away. Ranboo looked… distant, and Tommy felt bad, but he was in too deep.

There was so much to talk about, and Phil started his measly attempt to patch things up. “Wilbur wasn’t doing good, Tommy… I-“ his voice was smaller and gentler than before, some of the familiarity returning to it. Maybe before, the comforting parental tone would’ve soothed Tommy, but now it only served to irritate him further.

“So you kill him? You kill him for blowing up L’Manburg, only to do it yourself later? You disgust me. Don’t even try to fucking imply that you have _any_ sort of remorse for what you did to Wilbur. You never deserved him,” he spat out, rage continuing to grow the more he talked. He walked up to Phil briskly, glaring at the man through his glistening tears. “You don’t miss him, you miss your guilt free conscious."

"And when I’m gone, don’t you fucking dare say you miss me.”

And with that, Tommy turned around to leave a gaping, teary eyed Philza with his two companions in the snow. Before he left, he made sure to glare at Techno, too. Tommy’s breath hitched when he saw the almost misty eyes of the piglin, but he decided to ignore the gnawing feeling it gave him. It was too late to feel remorse.

He left them, walking towards the familiar nether portal, wishing he didn’t have to see them in a long time.


	2. Revival

Tommy’s words had cut deep, deeper than Phil thought. And when the boy stomped off, he left Phil no time to process his words fully nor a chance to defend himself. He couldn’t tell if he was sad, numb or angry, and it that case who he was angry at.

Tommy was a traitor. Techno had been nice enough to give him somewhere to stay, despite being outlawed by Dream. Quite literally, Techno had put his neck on the line for the boy. And he repaid him by running back to the people who no longer wanted him, who cast him aside. _Just like Phil had done. Phil was no better than them_.

But here they stood, quiet as the snow laid still around their feet. Carefully, Phil dared himself to look up at Techno, and his heart constricted when he saw the sheer emotion on the man’s face, an unusual sight even for Phil. A stinging sensation nipped at his skin as the situation finally dawned on him.

Resignation washed over him. He had stepped down from the role as father, and even if he hadn’t, he doubted Tommy ever wanted to think of him in that way ever again. The emotions distorted in his chest, and the bitterness was overwhelming. What was it to him, anyway? A son that was a traitor wasn’t a son to have, he lied to himself.

Without a word, he turned around to head back into the cottage, leaving Techno and Ranboo alone in the thick silence. They would have to fend for themselves, and Phil honestly didn’t know if he could look either of them in the eye while he was tearing up like he was.

# —

A totem rested in Phil’s hand, intwined in his fingers so naturally it almost helped to sooth Phil for what was about to happen. Only a small while had gone since his last interaction with Tommy, but it still lingered in his mind as he prepared to revive his son. Guilt clung at his conscious despite him knowing, _hoping_ that he was in the right. But those thoughts had to be pushed aside so he could focus the task at hand.

The plan was more complicated than they had first anticipated; saying “pop a totem in the vicinity of Ghostbur” was easy enough, but the fact was that for that to happen, someone had to almost die. Luckily, Eret had stepped up, seeing as he had three lives remaining. Even though they had said multiple times that it was alright, Phil made extra sure to ask an extra time.

So here Phil was, holding the same sword he murdered his son with, staring down another tall figure with brown fluffy hair, and it was almost painfully reminiscent of the day. Ghostbur just floated behind both of them, near Eret. He had been unusually quiet, not even offering a slight of blue to any of the people present. The silence felt unsettling, but given what was about to happen it probably wasn’t anything too big. _Right_?

Eret and Phil met eyes, fear sparking in both of the pairs for what was about to happen.

Diamond sword met flesh, and Phil cursed silently to himself as he had to relive what could be his greatest regret.

Before Phil could register the yell of pain from Eret, his vision exploded with green and yellow, magic lighting up their surroundings like fireworks. The sparks felt electric against his skin, and he had to look away as he stumbled back from the scene.

Eret had clutched their chest, doubling over as Ghostbur seemed to glow over them. The grey of his skin was being lit up by the totems magic, almost like a lampshade. The translucent glow was a reminder of how inhuman Ghostbur was, even if they all liked to forget about his morbid past and present, preferring to pretend he was just some friendly ghost that wandered around the smp. But when you saw him like this, it was like a slap to the face.

Slowly, the greens and yellows reflected off of Ghostburs skin faded into more natural colours, bleeding into his body like a watercolour painting. The grey skin was slowly replaced by a more vivid, alive-looking beige that painted his entire face. Wilbur was slipping back into reality, becoming more and more alive by the second, and pure shock overtook Phil. Their plan had worked. Eret seemed to be fine as well, as he was laying splayed on the ground, watching in fascination as well.

Phil couldn’t help himself much longer, deciding to walk closer to his son. Time seemed to drag on for hours, teasing and taunting Phil as a punishment. Wilbur seemed to claw at consciousness, struggling to wake up. It reminded him of when Will was a kid, suffering from a nightmare. Phil picked up one of Wilbur’s hands and rubbed his thumb in circles along the back of his hand, just as he did back then.

When Wilbur finally came back, Phil almost choked on the emotions that welled up. His eyes were clouded, dazed and confused, searching for anything that could be an answer to where he was and how he got there. Phil seemed to be that answer, and when he caught sight of his dad, he went completely rigid. A sense of grief washed over Phil. He had hoped that Wilbur could try and make amends with him, understand his side of the story and work on their relationship, but when he saw how Wilbur almost looked afraid, all hope was thrown out the window.

The fear in Wilbur’s eyes was quickly replaced by rage, the mist from his eyes leaving in an instant. Inelegantly, he scrambled to sit up and push Phil away. Mumbling could be heard from Wilbur, but it was hard to make out words. It sounded like a scratched record and almost reversed for a second, but the longer he blabbered the more and more sense came back into his words. Phil didn’t need many words to guess what he was saying; the look he was receiving was enough.

“…The fuck am I doing here with you? You brought me back?” Wilbur heaved out the questions, never ceasing to try and gather himself. Unfortunately, when you’re alive, you have to stop to breathe, so the flooding of words stopped for a few seconds as he wheezed. It dragged out until he had caught his breath completely, gaining back some of the composure he had before he died. After the sounds of Wilbur’s breathing subsided, a silence stretched on for a little bit too long.

“Where’s Tommy?”

At first, the question seemed innocent, almost a bit sad. It made Phil’s heart clench, being reminded of his two youngest’s strong bond. But as time went on, it seemed as memories crashed into Wilbur, and rage filled his son.

“Where’s Tommy.”

“I- I don’t know, Wilbur,” Phil said, trying to keep a calm tone as to help his son, but his attempts went unappreciated. “Probably in his house or somewhere in L’Manburg,” he tacked on carefully.

Wilbur appeared to be weighing his options, looking at Philza and then looking back at the exit from the little revival area Eret had built. Pain and anger were fighting for control, but it seemed as if one had one.

Quickly, the tall man stood up and turned around, not sparing Phil another glance as he left without a thanks or a hug. Maybe it was too much to demand, but Phil was desperate at this point. Reviving Wilbur hadn’t been like healing an old wound, it was more like reopening and pouring generous amounts of salt in it. Maybe he had made the wrong decision, but when Ghostbur had come to his doorstep asking for help, he couldn’t deny himself of the offer. Deny Ghostbur of the offer.

_“You don’t miss him, you miss your guilt free conscious. And when I’m gone, don’t you fucking dare say you miss me.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy valentines everyone!! I hope you appreciate someone you love and that you get appreciated, because you deserve it c:
> 
> Keeping these chapters a bit shorter and zooowee this was hard to write. People who manage to write stuff like this so well, you guys amaze me and I appreciate you so so much :,^). Anyways, Wilbur POV soon? I'm also considering dropping a little like music list of the songs I listen to while writing these! Might do that next chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't stop thinking about how Tommy feels betrayed by everyone, and this fic is the result of that! Is it obvious that I am very upset with dsmp!Philza and how he handled this? I hope it is, because I sure am! Yeah, mostly wrote this for myself but if you did enjoy it I'm glad!! Thanks for reading <]:^)
> 
> (I might add more chapters to this, I'm really not sure)


End file.
